If Angels Fall
by Violetvixen17
Summary: John Munch finds himself having to talk a victim down from a ledge. In doing so he sets events in motion that will change the lives of everyone in the SVU. Munch/OC, E/O.
1. Jumper

"Where the hell is Liv when we need her?" John murmured under his breath. Fin nodded, both of them wishing that Oliva and Elliot hadn't been pulled into that Feds case upstate. This was the type of case that Cragen would have normally handed to Olivia in a heartbeat. He and Fin normally got the drug related cases, the research work, the door to door detail…not this. But with Benson and Stabler gone for the week; Cragen hadn't had a choice….so here they were.

"I know…but she ain't here." Fin grumbled. "And someone's gotta get out there and start talking before we're dealing with a very messy crime scene."

John nodded, but neither man moved. It was clear that both of them expected the other to step up. The officers that flanked them glared, knowing that it wasn't their place to act but the clock was ticking.

"Fine! Damnit…." John muttered under his breath as he moved around the corner, nearing the glass doors that led out onto the building's rooftop. He slowly pushed the doors open, still muttering his discontent about how he was not the right person to be doing this. He glanced back toward where Fin stood, reporting their progress to Cragen via radio.

Fin nodded at him. "Go on man…."

John sighed and shoved the door open, stepping out into the falling snow. He looked out toward the corner where the girl sat, her legs dangling over the edge. The tall buildings around were filled with lighted windows, and the view was enough to rival the stars overhead. But the snow city's beauty was lost on this girl.

John tried to think back to his training, it had been a long time since he'd been put in a negotiator position, much less one that involved talking a jumper off of a ledge. He cleared his throat so she would know he was coming, but she didn't move or even flinch to acknowledge him. He took another step, but then stopped, knowing better than to get too close. All he could see of her was her back, the tangle of wild dark curls that covered it, and her clothing….a snug green sweater and jeans that were probably doing little to keep her warm.

"Hey there." He called out, jamming his hands into his pockets to warm them. As much as he enjoyed the cold, this was pushing even his limits. Figuring a casual tactic would serve him as well as any he started to talk. "You've gotta be freezing…"

The girl didn't move, but this time she answered him. "I'm all right."

"Well, you're sitting on ledge ….that doesn't seem like 'all right'… but you know that's just my opinion." He took another step, hoping to God that his sarcasm didn't push this victim that last few feet.

"Well, it's not your opinion that I'm concerned with …." Her voice trembled, as if she'd been crying and might be apt to start up again.

"So whose are you worried about?"

Silence this time, he wanted to advance again, but hesitated. _Man I wish Olivia was here_….he thought. Benson could talk people off a ledge in her sleep, she had that whole motherly voice that she could turn on at a whim and make anyone feel safe and loved. Hell she'd even used her talents on him from time to time, when cases had pierced his armor…she was a good friend to him, and he wished for her talents right now. Anything would have been better than his sarcastic wit trying to talk to this girl.

"You wouldn't understand…." Her voice came again, and the snow fall gained intensity. John pulled the collar of his trench coat up to keep the flakes from getting in, and risked another step.

"Try me."

She turned then, looking over her shoulder at him. John stopped instantly, watching her as she stared at him, trying to gauge her reaction and hoping to god that it wasn't the sight of him that caused her to lean any further forward. He didn't need to add that visual to the nightmares that plagued him. Thankfully she stayed still, giving him a chance to study her. Dark curls surrounded a face that would have seemed more at home on a porcelain doll. John thought back to one of his ex-wives who'd collected the damn things, lining shelves with the expensive figurines that looked much like this girl. The same small nose, and cherub pink mouth, same silky pale skin…but this girl's eyes were different….red rimmed from crying, and something else…haunted. And suddenly, John Munch wanted to know exactly what it was that had given her that look.

"Who are you?" She asked.

He lifted his hand to flash his badge. "Detective….alot of people down there are worried about you."

"They don't know me….why should they care?"

"Cause they'd rather not have to pay a cleaning service to mop up the mess on their sidewalk." John winced, unable to believe he'd let that comment fly out of his mouth. It had been too long since he'd dealt with this type of victim, and his tact filter was rusty.

But surprisingly, as he watched …the corner of her mouth pulled the slightest bit upward. "You're probably right." She murmured, turning back to gaze at the impressive drop that she was hovering near.

Thankful, John stepped forward again. Only a few more steps would put her within arms reach. He waited a moment for her to speak again, but she didn't, nor did she look at him again. As he watched, the wind picked up, whipping the snow flakes against the dark curtain of her hair, many of them catching on the strands and glittering in the dim light. The whole scene was surreal, like something from a dream... or a nightmare.

"Why'd they send you?" She asked, turning her gaze up toward the dark sky.

"Because my colleague's out of town."

"She's the resident shrink?"

Munch tried to reign in the smirk that tugged at him at her comment. "No, but she's the one who has more experience with this sort of thing."

"You mean talking crazies down."

"Is that what you think you are? Crazy?" He changed tactics, hoping that maybe getting her talking would distract her from her present course.

She shook her head, snow falling loose from her hair. "No..." Her voice caught, and as he moved a little closer he saw her shoulders tense up and shake the slightest bit. He knew she'd started to cry.

"Tell me." He pulled his hands from his pockets despite the cold.

The only sound besides the wind, was the sound her breath hitching as she tried to reign in her tears. John began to worry that the movement would cause her to lose her balance and fall. He took another step, bringing him to the wall where she sat just a few feet to her right. Now if he looked he could see her profile, her eyes clenched shut, hands gripping the edge of the concrete where she sat, her sneakers hanging over the abyss.

"I don't have…." The words fought in between sobs. "…I don't have anywhere to go."

John was still for a moment, trying to decipher. She was too clean, too well dressed to be homeless. Her frame was thin, but not gaunt, and he tried to understand.

"I'm sure that's not true." He cursed inwardly, knowing that it was the wrong thing to say, as her tears intensified. As he stared, he realized that she was older than he'd first thought, probably in her twenties.

"Anywhere I go…they'll find me…I can't…there's nowhere…"

John moved closer…one more step would have him close enough to grab her.

"It's going to happen again….I know it."

"What is?"

"They'll find me… and I….I'm tired of running."

In an effort to keep her talking he kept asking questions. "From the police?"

She shook her head again, and this close John could see the silver tracks on her cheeks. His eyes followed the path of one tear as it slid down and dripped off her jaw. Something inside him shifted, something that hadn't moved in years, a part of him he'd forgotten existed. The sarcasm dropped from his voice.

"This isn't the answer, doll…." He murmured, the endearment seemed fitting as he knew no other name to call her.

She turned then to look at him, and this close he could finally see her eyes. The sage green depths were glassy with her sorrow, and it pierced him. Whatever burden this girl carried was killing her. He suddenly understood why she was out on this ledge and understood better than anyone. Her next words slammed it home.

"I just don't want to be alone anymore."

John let out a strangled sigh as something inside him broke. In one risky move, he turned and wrapped his right arm around her waist, pulling her weight back against him and knocking her off balance. But what surprised him was that she came willingly, allowing him to pull her back off that buildings edge until her feet were on the ground. The relief that flooded through him was palpable as she leaned back into his chest, her sobs still shaking her body. The quiet night was only punctuated by the sound of her gasps as she let loose the full force of all she'd been holding back. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, a small part of him afraid that if he relinquished his hold she'd run back for the edge. Her hands came up to grab his forearm, he thought to pull it away, but instead she held on tightly as if scared he'd let go.


	2. Safe

Part 2

The cops swarmed out of the building now onto the roof, Fin leading the charge. John was faintly aware of the sudden noise and commotion that surrounded them, but he was reluctant to move. But as Fin walked into his peripheral vision he lifted his head to nod at his partner and loosened his hold.

"Ma'am, why don't you come with us?" Fin started.

"No!" She exclaimed, but as John's arms fell away from her she spun around to bury her face in the front of his jacket.

Fin's expression went from concerned to flabbergasted. But John was even more shocked, as he felt the girl's weight tremble against him. Her hands clutched at the lapels of his trench coat, her forehead bowed against his chest and without thinking he folded his arms around her again. In the back of his mind he couldn't help but be aware of how nice it was to to feel needed, it had been so long. She was petite, the top of her head hitting just below his chin, and he looked over her at his partner, not knowing what to say. The officers surrounded them, the paramedic moving forward.

"Does she need to be examined?" The woman asked, looking as confused as the rest of them were.

John looked down at the girl he held in his arms. It had been years since he'd held a woman, and the feeling of her slight weight leaning against him was staggering. He tried to think of all the rules and protocol this was probably breaking, but he didn't push her away. Instead he leaned down and spoke softly against her hair.

"You should let them check you out."

The girl froze, and for a split second John wondered if she was holding her breath. But then her trembling whisper came, "I can't go to a hospital…."

"You might not have to. Just let them have a look at you." John said.

She nodded, but didn't let go of his jacket, so he nodded over at the EMT who walked forward and reached out to take her arm. The girl flinched, as if the other woman's touch burned her. John moved his hands to gently grip her forearms, turning her from him so he could guide her into following the paramedic. For whatever reason she didn't seem to mind his touch, so he looked over at Fin, who seemed to understand.

"Why don't you ride with her? That's what Liv usually does."

John turned then, draping his arm around the girls' shoulders to guide her as they followed the EMTs back into the building. He hoped that he was doing the right thing; and like Fin had said…Olivia usually rode with victims to make them feel more comfortable. But in the back of his mind he questioned whether he walked with her because that was what he was _supposed _to do, or because of the way she'd clung to him as she cried.

&&&&&&&&

Cragen voice came through Fin's radio, demanded to know an update on the situation. It took Fin a moment to respond, as he watched his partner lead the jumper back into the building and then into an elevator with the EMTs. The whole event had thrown him for a loop, and he wondered what Munch was saying to get that girl to let go of the idea she had about throwing herself off that building. They talked for a few moments as Munch had walked toward her. But then he had done something that has taken all of them by surprised. In a risky move, he'd grabbed the girl. All of them had held their breath, expecting her to struggle and fall, but he'd pulled her back and held onto her until they'd gotten out there, blocking her way. But Fin played the scene back in his head, she hadn't tried to run once he'd gotten her off the ledge, she'd just kept her head down and cried, holding onto Munch.

"Fin! Answer this damnit!! What's the status?" Cragen barked and Fin jolted, lifting the CB back up.

"Jumper's down Cap….Munch yanked her off that ledge."

Silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "Well good….she on the way to Mercy?"

"Girl doesn't appear to be injured. Paramedics are checking her over now." Fin replied as he took the next elevator down with the remaining officers.

"Good, well once the girl gets on her way you two get back here to fill out the paperwork on it."

"Will do Cap." Fin clicked off the radio as the conversation finished.

When he made it outside, he saw Munch standing by the ambulance as the paramedic checked the girl over. She didn't look much older than his son, and he wondered what had pushed that girl to think there was no way out other than a swan dive into traffic. But even more mysterious was the fact that his partner, normally all sarcasm and bluster stood there silently by her side. If there was one thing Munch was not…it was quiet.

&&&&&&&

"Okay honey, let me see your arm …." The medic began, and John watched as the girl extended it. She'd let the medics do their job, but little things he saw sent up red flags that the EMTs weren't catching. She refused to tell them her name right off the bat, and when they'd pushed it she'd smirked and said "Jane Doe". Munch had stifled a smile at this, she had spunk behind that pretty face. The paramedic had scowled, but wrote it down anyway. For the most part she kept her face turned from them, her head down, almost as if purposefully hiding behind her hair; he wondered if this was due to her comment about people looking for her, she didn't want to risk being recognized? But the bigger concern came as the technician shoved the sleeve of her sweater up. A scar extended up the length of her forearm, a long silver line that went from her wrist to her elbow. John frowned as he caught sight of it, it was too long to be a suicide attempt cutting, it looked more like the cuts the ME made on autopsy victims. She let the technician take her blood pressure, then quickly covered it back up, leaving John wondering what on earth this poor girl had lived through.

The technician finally pronounced her in good health, and then had her sign the form. She did so quickly, but then as she stood up from the trucks edge, she faltered, staring down at the ground as if unsure what to do next. John knew that Cragen would expect them to court her off to the nearest mental health facility to be checked in for suicide watch in case she tried a repeat of tonight's performance. But as he watched her, he noticed her shivering and a wave of protectiveness flooded over him. This girl had obviously been through hell and the last thing he wanted to do was dump in her in a loony bin. Plus all the things she had said added up to a much bigger story than just your average girl-gives-up-on-world suicide attempt. The detective in him wanted to know the rest of the story, and he wasn't going to get it if they threw her in with a ward of schizophrenics.

"Come on …." He murmured, putting his arm around her to lead her back to their car. She came with him willingly, a distant look on her face as if she no longer had the strength to argue, her cheeks were tearstained and her eyes bloodshot. He felt her shivers intensify and it was then that he realized how cold she had to be, in nothing but that thin sweater and jeans. He stopped and turned back to grab a blanket from one of the EMTs. Stepping back into her line of vision, he shook it out and drew it around her.

"Thank you." She said quietly, her voice raspy from crying.

"No problem."

Fin was suddenly there in front of him, with a questioning look. John stepped forward to grab hiss elbow and steer him a few feet away from the girl. He looked over his shoulder to make sure she didn't bolt then addressed his partner.

"So what's the deal John?"

"Listen, she's afraid to go to the hospital, and I don't think she belongs in a padded room."

Fin interrupted. "You want to just give her a ride home?"

"She claims she doesn't have a place."

"She's pretty clean to be homeless….you think it's true?"

John paused for a moment, to glance back at her. She was leaning against the door of their car, staring down at the sidewalk, her eyes tired and listless. "I don't know, but she did say that she was worried about someone finding her. I think we should bring her back to the station and see if she'll elaborate."

"You think that'll fly with Cragen?"

"Who knows? But worst case scenario…we talk to her, find out it's nothing…get her a cab home."

Fin mulled it over then shrugged. "All right…your call John…she let you pull her back, maybe she'll open up about the other stuff after she calms down."

"Yeah, thanks man." John turned back to the girl and caught her watching him with a contemplative stare. Despite the tearstains on her cheeks and her reddened eyes, the perfection of her features was still striking.

"Come on, we're gonna take you somewhere warm." He murmured, reaching to open the car door for her.

"I can't….please….no hospitals…" She rambled.

"No…not a hospital. You're gonna come back with us." He said solidly, opening the door.

She seemed to consider this for a moment, then stepped forward toward the car, one hand still holding the blanket around her. The movement brought her within inches of him, and as he leaned over to help her into the car, she turned her face toward him. For a second she lingered there, staring at him with eyes that seemed to have more wisdom than her years. This close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheeks, and it was his turn to shiver, but not from the cold. Her eyes searched his. She seemed to be trying to decide.

"It's okay doll," he murmured. "You're safe with me."


	3. Transition

Fin watched as his partner guided the girl through the hallways to their squad room. He wasn't sure about what was going to happen next, Cragen would want to know why their jumper had returned with them instead of going to a psych ward. He didn't have an answer except that Munch didn't seem to want to let her leave. That was the strangest part of all. All the years he'd known the older man, he'd heard the tales of his four failed marriages, listened to him rant and rave about the evils of the female species, and never seem to even turn an eye toward any of the women who came through their precinct. But something about this girl was different. Maybe it was because he'd gotten her down, he felt responsible for making sure she didn't try it again?

John watched as she sat down in the chair next to his desk. She still had that blankets drawn around her shoulders but he noticed now that she was shivering. He leaned over to look closer at her and realized that her sweater and jeans were damp from the snow. She had to be freezing and she hadn't said a word since they'd gotten in the car, he instantly felt guilty for not noticing sooner. 

"I'll be right back." He said, but she didn't look up. He hesitated for a moment before heading to his locker where he kept extra clothes. As he dug through it, looking for a shirt he felt someone approach. A moment later Elliot stood beside him.

"Hey Munch…. Lost something?" 

"Just looking for a shirt."

"Something wrong with the one you're wearing?" Elliot chuckled, as he rifled through his locker for something as well.

"It's not for me." He muttered as he found shirt that he hadn't worn in days. He sniffed it and the odor made him wince. 

Another laugh from Elliot. "I take it that one won't work?"

John stuffed it back in and scowled over at Elliot whose expression turned from teasing to curious. "What's up?"  
Munch flicked his eyes toward his desk where she still sat, her eyes downcast. Elliot followed his line of sight and his eyes narrowed as he saw her. "You catching?"

"Nah….she was the jumper." He said slowly. 

Elliot's thick brows lifted in surprise. "So why is she here?" 

"There's more to her story than just _girl-tries-to-swan-dive-off-building_. I want to find out what the real deal is." 

Elliot stared at him for a moment, suspicion and curiosity written over his features. But after a moment his face softened again. "Let me go call Liv…she might have something." He clapped John on the shoulder then turned before he could say anything else and strode toward the hallway.

John closed his locker and then walked back to his desk. He pulled his chair out and turned it toward the side where she sat. She was still shivering and seemed intently interesting in the cracked pattern of the old flooring. As he tried to figure out what to say, where to start…she suddenly spoke.

"Why did you bring me here?" She slowly lifted her head to look at him. Her expression was unreadable.

"You said no hospitals… this isn't one." 

"That much I got…" The corner of her mouth pulled up just a fraction. Her character was showing again, and the small glimpses he'd gotten thus far intrigued him. Underneath this fearful exterior beat a feisty heart, and he'd be willing to bet a wiseass mouth as well. She was a study in paradoxes, and the more she presented, the more he was determined to solve them.

"Why were you up there?" 

She didn't answer, as another chill rattled her. She glanced around the squad room, which was mostly empty at this time of night .His eyes followed her gaze. Only the diehard senior detectives and their partners were crazy enough to work this late, which explained why only he, Fin, and Elliot remained. Even Cragen looked to have checked out for the night, he thought as he noted the dark windows of his office.

"Who are you running from?" He tried a different angle. This time she looked at him, her eyes narrower as she gauged his expression.

"You won't believe me."

He returned her stare. If anyone knew how it felt to be disbelieved it was him. Nearly every time he opened his mouth to tell of a real theory he was shushed by his comrades. "Try me."

"I'm running from people who claim to protect this country." She said slowly, watching his face for any reaction. But when she saw none her smirk returned. "This is the part where you reach for that phone on your desk to have me committed."

John let out a laugh at her words. "Not yet Doll, I don't have a soft spot for our government either. What's their problem with you?"

"I'm supposed to be dead." 

"Says who?"

"Two car bombs and a house fire."

John sat back suddenly in his chair. _What the hell?_ He thought back to the scar he'd seen on her arm_. Was she serious?_ But as he looked at her face, it was obvious she wasn't kidding, not in the slightest. The sea green color of her irises darkened to a shade closer to pine and he felt himself slipping past the point of no return. She'd just sealed the deal, he was hooked.

"Munch!" Elliot's command interrupted the moment as he strode back into the squad room, carrying a bundle of clothes under one arm. 

Thankful for the break in what was shaping up to be the most intense conversation he'd had lately, John nodded at Elliot. "Thanks."

&&&&&&&&&&&

Elliot grinned before stopping in front of where the girl sat. He'd been surprised to see that Munch and Fin had brought back the jumper. But stranger things had happened in the SVU and he shrugged it off. He'd called Olivia and despite her growling about being woken up, she'd told him that the woman's locker room kept a stash of NYPD sweats for when female officers wanted to work out. After teasing his partner a bit about her grogginess, he'd hung up and let her get back to sleep.

Now he surveyed the girl that Munch had managed to talk down from a ledge. She avoided meeting his eyes, even though when he'd walked in she'd been talking straight to Munch. She still clutched a paramedic blanket around her shoulders, but her jeans were wet and judging from the pale color of her face, she had to be cold. A protective urge rose in him. He crouched down to her level and handed her the sweats he'd grabbed. 

"Here, these might help warm you up." He said gently.

"Thanks." She said quietly, finally looking at him.

Elliot didn't rise just yet. He took in the features of her face, the wild dark waves that framed it. She was attractive, he thought, as he took in the delicate features of her face. But something in her eyes was unsettling, as she watched him. He found himself trying to fathom how this young woman seemed to have such an old soul looking out of her eyes.

Munch cleared his throat, yanking Elliot back from his thoughts. He looked up to see something even stranger on the other detectives face. _Irritation? Jealousy?_ Elliot quickly brushed away the assumption and rose back to his full height. Munch didn't bother about women, he'd made that quite obvious over the years when he'd ranted about all his failed marriages.

"You can change in the woman's locker room if you want." He said gently, pointing down the hallway from where he'd come. "It's four doors down at the end of the corridor." 

"Thanks…" the girl's weary expression softened a little as she faltered for his name. 

"Elliot." He said, filling in the blank, surprised that his first name rolled off before his normal introduction of 'Detective Stabler'. 

She nodded and rose from her chair. She looked back at Munch for a moment and something passed between them unspoken. Elliot was intrigued as he watched the encounter. Munch nodded at her silently, before she turned to walk the way he'd gestured. _Who was she? And what the hell was her connection to John Munch?_

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

As she peeled off her damp clothes she began to feel how tired she was. It had been two days since she'd gotten more than an hour or two of sleep. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten either and as her stomach growled she sighed, realizing it had to have been awhile. 

Quickly she slipped the dry sweatpants on, but as she picked up the sweatshirt to slip over her head, her reflection distracted her. Standing there, she could see the scars that extended along the inside of her forearms. She scanned the sight of the pale girl who looked back at her. She sighed, it had been a long time since she'd had time to care about how she looked. Her color was pale and her reddened eyes stood out against it. She could also see the small scar that danced down the center of her chest, before disappearing into her bra. She brought up a hand and traced the faint pink line that stood out against how pale her skin was. 

A shudder raced through her as she remembered waking up to that line of stitches and the dull pain that throbbed around it. She'd been cuffed to the bed then, unable to even pull open her surgical gown to see what they'd done to make her hurt so much. The bracelet on her wrist had born her name and case number, the numerals standing out in bold black ink, while her name seemed more of an afterthought in tiny font. The doctors all used the number to refer to her anyway. 

She remembered the nurses face when she'd come to check on her, something like pity had tinted her features and for a brief second she'd hoped that the woman would help her. But she had merely checked her vitals and left the room again. She hadn't spoken a word, but then personnel were advised not to speak to test subjects. 

Suddenly thankful that she hadn't eaten, she fought back dry heaves that swept over her at the memory. She'd been thinking about all of this when she'd ridden the elevator in that building hours earlier. It had been on her mind when she'd stared out at the New York skyline, and it had been involved in her reasoning when she'd climbed up to sit on that ledge. _Never again….. I'd rather die than go back to that._


	4. Too late

John rubbed a hand over his face as he tried to collect himself. He hadn't realized it but he'd been nearly holding his breath as he'd watched Elliot speak to the girl. A feeling he hadn't been privy to for a long time had reared, hot and sharp and…unexpected. Jealousy, he'd been suddenly jealous of the easy charm that his coworker had been trying to work on her. All the women who came through the squad seemed to have that weakness for Stabler, something about the brooding Irish cop demeanor just pulled them all in. But it never had bothered him before.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" He muttered as he looked back down at the half done paperwork on his desk.

He scribbled in the rest of the information and tossed the forms into his outbox. As he waited, his mind wandered, back to a time nearly ten years ago when IAB had forced them all to do psych evaluations with a shrink. The woman's words suddenly drifted through his memory. "_Your former wives were all beautiful, but spoiled, and not one of them matched you intellectually…. and despite all you've seen and been through, you still believe in true love, and the pain of not having found it…is unbearable._"

He'd sassed the shrink then, throwing up his usual defense, but her words had haunted him for years. Not only because she'd pegged him so clearly, but because he hated that she'd been right. Despite everything, he still dated here and there, because somewhere inside he was still looking, still holding out hope.

**&******&******&

A muffled, far away sound brought him back to the present. He sighed and listened, but the sound was faint and it took him a moment to figure out where it was coming from, the hallway. He moved quickly towards the elevators and listened again, it was coming from the women's locker room….where she'd gone…and as he walked closer he realized what it was…..retching.

"What in the hell…" He strode quickly toward that last door and shoved it open without a thought.

The girl stood there, hunched over a sink, the sweatshirt lying on the counter. John hesitated for a moment seeing her half dressed. Presented with her back he was momentarily taken with the contrast of her dark hair against how pale her skin was, and again that word came to him, _porcelain_. He moved toward her slowly, clearing his throat loudly, not wanting to frighten her.

"Hey now….are you all right?"

Her heaves slowly shuddered to a stop and she slumped forward to rest her forehead against the cool counter top. John took another step towards her, he could hear the sound of her trying to catch her breath.

"Do you need a doctor?" He mentally kicked himself as he remembered her fear of hospitals, but he was at a loss for another suggestion.

"No….I can't….please…." She gasped, as she tried to lift her head from the counter, but the move was too much and she lurched sideways.

John moved forward to catch her against him as her balance tilted. "I'm sorry…..I…I'll be…fine…" the words fluttered out just before she collapsed against him in a dead faint. John staggered a little under the sudden dead weight, but tightened his grip as he lowered to his knees.

"Hey….come on now…don't do this…" He murmured, tipping her head back over his arm. _God she was beautiful_.

He shook her gently. "Doll, wake up….come on." No response, but she was breathing thankfully

John quickly moved to grab and dampen a handful of paper towels. Quickly he moved back to cradle her against him and wiped the cool liquid across her forehead and cheeks, not knowing what else to do. He called to her quietly, "come on Doll…..damn it….not now…you gotta come to…." an endearment slipped in, "baby please…." . He looked her over quickly and let out a quiet string of curses as he saw the long scar that ran down her chest. He traced part of the line with his fingertip, long and jagged, it marred the perfection of her skin exactly like an autopsy grid. He noticed that she had similar ones on the inside of her arms. _What in the hell had been done to her?! _He moved his hand to feel for her pulse against her neck, he found it faint but there. He let his hand relax against her neck, trying to ignore how soft her skin was against his palm._ "_Wake up Doll._"  
_

After a moment he felt a tremor go through her and a strange sensation crept over him, almost like a hum of electricity, like he'd brushed against a live wire. It lasted only a moment before subsiding as she stirred in his arms. He watched as her eyelids fluttered open and those piercing green eyes focused on him. He prepared himself for her to scream, push him away, but she did neither. No anger or revulsion showed in her eyes, only what looked like guilt.

"Oh god….John I'm sorry." Her words sent a chill over his spine. Had he told her his first name? He couldn't recall doing so.

"You didn't." She said quietly, still watching him with that solemn stare.

"What are you…."

"You're not going to understand…I was going to leave…but now it's too late." She struggled to sit up, the effort showing John just how weak she actually was. But her words continued to confuse him as she mumbled to herself. "I didn't think I could….didn't think it would happen like this….too late….."

"Too late for what?" He moved to help her stand up, she took his hand without question and let him pull her to her feet.

She paused as she reached for the discarded sweatshirt. Slowly she pulled it over her head and then sighed. She looked toward the mirror, and caught his eyes in their reflection. Her expression was unreadable, yet John found himself hanging on her every word.

"It's just too late."


	5. Tale to tell

The moment hung there in space between them, her words echoing in his mind. _It's just too late._ He had no idea what she meant but the ominous tone in her voice spoke volumes and the curiousity that had been eating at him since he met her was taking a strange turn.

"I'll explain John, I promise." She said slowly, but he could see the exhaustion radiating from her frame, she was barely upright even just holding herself up was taking a massive effort. He could wait for answers.

"Come on, let's get out of here." He mumbled, placing a hand on the small of her back to gently steer her out of the restroom. The touch was slight, as the thick sweatshirt sagged on her small frame, but the casualness of it seemed to resonate through him. It had been so long since he'd felt needed, it was foreign to him.

"Please…no hospitals," she whispered weakly as they walked out into the empty hallway and back toward the squad room.

"I gave you my word, that's not where we're going." At the doorway he moved away from her side to grab his things from his desk and turn off his lamp. When he turned back, he couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the sight she presented.

The gray NYPD sweat suit was much too big for her, she had rolled up the cuffs to avoid stepping on them. The heavy fabric hid the perfection of her figure, but not the lovely dark curls that tumbled over her shoulders. And despite her pale color and the dark circles under her eyes he couldn't help but think the word_, beautiful_. He suddenly wanted to know her name, not Jane Doe, not even the 'Doll' moniker he'd assigned her, but her real name.

Molly. Molly Imogene Galloway.

John stopped short. The name just appeared in his mind, as if on command. He stared over at her, suddenly feeling the need to see her eyes. She lifted her face and gave him an apologetic smile.

"It's okay John. It's just my name." She said quietly.

Her tired smile righted whatever had been knocked sideways for the moment. He walked toward her, slipping his sleeves into his trench coat. As he reached her she looked up warily.

"Where are we going?"

"Home." He said simply, delighting in the slightly confused expression on her face. He had a feeling that she was miming the emotion for his benefit, for deep down something told him that she already knew.

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The cab ride to his apartment was quiet, Molly sagged against the seat, looking like she could lose consciousness at any moment. John watched her closely, hoping that she would make it to his apartment. He tried to remember if he had any food in his kitchen. He was willing to bet that she hadn't had a decent meal or a night's sleep in quite some time.

She allowed him to lead her out of the cab when it pulled up in front of his building. She looked at the building with a wary glance, then up at him. He nodded reassuringly and unlocked the lobby door. She paused for a moment at the doorway, as if deciding whether she would go further.

"It's a not a hospital, or a government office. It's just where I live. You'll be safe." Without knowing why he extended his open hand toward her, his soul willing her to take it.

She stared right into his eyes, searching. John felt as if she was reading him than anyone had ever bothered to look. It was like he felt her presence twining around his being, threading through his very core. The feeling both thrilled and terrified him, knowing that it was risky to enjoy any of this as he had the sense that she could vanish from his life at any second.

She smiled again then for a moment, that same little crooked knowing smile that was becoming burned into his mind, and then stepped over the threshold. John gently moved to close the door behind her, hesitating for a moment to make sure she was all right. It was like handling the thinnest of glass. Everything about her seemed so fragile and easily shattered, but then again she also seemed like she'd survived so much more than he'd experienced. She'd made that cryptic comment about bombs and fires. …

"I wasn't lying about that, by the way…" her soft voice chimed into his thoughts and it gave him a shiver as he KNEW he hadn't said any of that out loud.

"You didn't." Her voice came again, this time with a hint of amusement. John's initial panic over what she was doing was replaced by attraction. She was toying with him, despite the strange avenue he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

"Tell me how you're doing that…" He murmured as he tried to regain any kind of normalcy, hanging his trench coat on the coat hook near the door. He moved toward the kitchen and was irritated to find that he had very little in the way of food. His eyes flitted to the corkboard on the wall, full of tacked up take out menus. It was late and only a couple of them would deliver at this time of night.

"I'm not picky." She said gently, and John tried to squelch the shiver that chased over him as she continued to answer his unspoken questions. He yanked down the menu for the 24 hr pizzeria that was just a block or so away and slid it across the counter.

"Let me know what you like Doll." He wanted to call her by her name, but something about the way she'd communicated it to him mentally still unnerved him and she hadn't seemed to mind the nickname thus far.

He watched as she raked her gaze over the choices then risked a sideways glance at him, her smirk nearly hidden by the curtain of her curls that fell forward. "Your usual works for me."

John felt his jaw drop and he pushed off the counter to step towards her. "You need to tell me how you know…." He started to question but she let out a low chuckle and held up the menu, pointing to where he's circled his usual order in black ink. It stopped him and as she lowered the paper he saw her features relax into full on laughter, the sound almost musical.

Suddenly he no longer cared about the strange things that surrounded her, and her mirth was so contagious that he laughed in spite of himself. That spark was back in her eyes for a moment, the smartass that he knew was hiding behind the exhaustion. In spite of himself he felt that electric charge of attraction chase over him, his mind racing to cover up his emotion.

As her laughter subsided…John quickly turned to grab the cordless phone on the counter and dialed. He spoke quickly into the phone, ordering the food and then hung up. He felt rather than saw that she had moved out of the kitchen. Setting the phone down, he turned and saw that his hunch had been correct as his little waif was no longer standing behind him. He raked a hand through his hair and walked out, seeing her sneakers now left by his coffee table. He saw the sliver of light under his bathroom door and relaxed. For a fraction of a second he had thought maybe she would disappear, for as strangely as she'd entered his life he had the fear that she could vanish just as suddenly. And he had so many questions….none of which he could even begin to answer.

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"I will tell you…as much as I can. I promised." Her voice cut into his mental argument a moment or so later as emerged from the bathroom.

John looked up and watched as she sank down beside him on his leather sofa, the large sweatsuit pooling around her limbs. She looked the most relaxed he'd seen her at this moment, and he wondered.

"I feel safe with you." She murmured, lifting her face to lock gazes with him. Again he felt that shiver as she answered a question he hadn't asked aloud.

She sighed and nodded her head, then moved to shove up the baggy sleeves of the sweatshirt and held out her forearms so he could see the long ghoulish pink scars that ran up the inside of her arms. John's brow furrowed as his eyes raked over what had been done to her, the marks matched the one he'd seen on her chest, and as he saw these as well, he again was reminded of an autopsy grid. Without thinking he gently reached out a finger to trace one of the lines on her skin. Her skin was softer than any he'd touched before and an unbidden flush of heat and possibility invaded his being before he quickly removed his hand.

"It's hard to know where to start John…most people run the moment they see these, they don't stick around to find out the how or why." She began, her voice still soft and frail, but now more serious.

"It's a long story, but since you're ….." she faltered then, and he found himself suddenly looking her right in the eyes. Those green depths searched his soul for a moment and in spite of the control he was scrambling to hold onto, John felt his breathing quicken. Staring into a face that beautiful, it's owner showing no sign of revulsion or regret at his proximity…it had been so long since that part of him had been awake.

"…well…since …it happened to you…you deserve to know as much as you want."

She was quiet for a moment then, pulling that full bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to find the words. John tried to calm himself by tearing his gaze away from those perfect features. He toed off his shoes and removed his suit jacket, draping it over the arm of the couch.

"Why don't you start with what happened back at the squad?" He was most curious to know about that, as it had affected him.

She nodded. "I'll try…that's harder to explain as I didn't know I could….that it could transfer like that. It might have been cause I was so tired…or …" she fidgeted for a moment, playing with the cuffs of the sweatshirt, pulling them back down to hide her scars.

She took a deep breath. "There's something wrong with me." She began with a statement that made him bristle slightly, but he squelched the urge to argue with her and waited for her to continue.

"I seem to have this …ability. It didn't really show up until I was almost out of high school. At first I just thought maybe I was lucky…I never seemed to get hurt badly. No matter what sports I played, or clumsy accidents I had, I never broke anything or had any real damage. But that's not that strange I guess, so I never thought much of it."

She looked around the apartment as she paused, taking in the comfortable but sparse furnishings and kept talking. "But when I went to college, I rented a room in a boarding house nearby. The landlord rented out all the rooms in this old house to students and one night….there was party downstairs. I don't know what happened, I think the fireman said something about candles and the curtains catching fire. The house burned …." Her voice cracked slightly and John realized that he had been slowly leaning forward, hanging on every word.

"I remember the smoke coming under my door, and when I tried to get out, the whole upstairs apartment was on fire. I shut the door and tried the windows, but the house was old and they were stuck. I was scared…the smoke started to fill the room and the floor was warm. I started to panic and backed into a corner of the room, the only spot I could find where the floor wasn't as hot. I curled up and prayed, the flames started come in the room….I thought that was it…I was going to die."

John spoke then as her voice faded out. "But you didn't."

She looked up then, those green eyes darkening as she looked at him and shook her head slowly. "I didn't…." the words then started to tumble from her like water. "…I wasn't even burned, when the fireman brought me out they all just stared at me as I was examined by the paramedics. They told me later that they had never seen anyone survive that…the smoke inhalation alone should have killed me."

It sounded like something out of a comic book and normally John would have snorted and dismissed it as fiction, but her deadly serious gaze chilled him and he knew that every word was true.

"They took me to a hospital anyway for tests… kept me there for three days." Molly sighed deeply then and closed her eyes. "That was the first time _**They**_ came for me."


End file.
